


A Singular Promise

by FluffyFlo



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol, F/M, It has a happy ending though!, Miscarriage, Post-Canon, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyFlo/pseuds/FluffyFlo
Summary: (This work uses my Apprentice, Minke)Minke never thought that they'd want a child until they met Julian, practically destined to be a father. They can't bear to break it to him that they can't give him that sort of dream, so they have to bend the rules to get there-- but perhaps somethings aren't meant to be and other things are.





	A Singular Promise

They’d never expected the confession and they’d certainly never expected for his desire to be mirrored in their own. If they had, there were a great many choices they’d never would have made in the past. Minke had never planned for someone with so much love in his eyes, gazing pleadingly and vulnerably into theirs, to ask for something as domestic and common as a child. How could they admit that they’d never be able to do something like that because of the choices they’d made in the past?

“M-Minke? Are you alright?” the red-headed plague doctor asked, running his bare fingers across their cheeks, inexplicably wet with tears. When had they started crying?  
Cradling the backs of his hands, they whispered, voice broken, “Yes, Ilya. I-I’m fine. I never thought I’d hear someone ask that.” They let their lips pull into a soft smile, unwilling to let him worry about what their words had meant. “I never thought someone would want that with me. I never thought I’d want that, but I can’t think of it any other way.”  
To be held in his arms, comforted and fawned over with pride. To work hard to bring a new person into the world. To watch Julian fit so easily into fatherhood like they knew he would. It was practically reality already, but still so devastatingly far away. They could see the world together— all three of them. Their child would learn alongside them as they encountered new cultures and people. They’d learn so much and they’d be spoiled rotten.

The moment was too tender and short for Minke to have time to consider which would be more painful: the truth, or a lie. The lie would take time and Julian’s heart would be broken as they tried and tried and tried for a baby and nothing happened. Minke wouldn’t have to admit anything. They’d discover it together. Anything was preferable to being blunt and watching the hope and euphoria shatter. Sure there were plenty of ways to have a family and surely Julian wouldn’t object to giving a lonely child a home, but there was something very personal and intimate about having a baby of their own that couldn’t be properly matched.  
“I love you, Julian. We should try tonight.”

~*~*~

As if to answer a prayer, Minke had a visitor in their dreams. A cheetah headed visage made an offer, just as they had when Minke was young and desperate. Desperation and determination had appealed to them. The promise was singular. The Chariot knew that they hadn’t been able to have the foresight when they’d made their deal so many years ago. Then, Minke would have done anything to restore justice and their mother’s happiness. Now, they’d do anything for Ilya, even if it meant promising something they couldn’t give. They would have made something work, but mercy had favored them.

Months passed and the promise had come through. Julian hardly could keep his hands away from Minke’s stomach that had only begun to grow. Even as a doctor, he overreacted to every bubble of gas and gurgle of digestion, certain for a moment that it was a miracle and he could feel the baby move. Never had they felt so certain that they had everything they could ask for. It was there in Julian’s arms that they belonged, listening to the elated babbling in their ears.

~*~*~

Just like a flower in a vase or fruit left out in the sun, something so beautiful and joyous could hardly stand to last. A baby was supposed to feel uncomfortable. The body was distorting and making room for a new life to grow. They’d thought nothing of their discomfort, sending Julian out to collect pumpkin bread and rose tea from the market. He hadn’t thought to question anything. He knew little about pregnancy, but he knew to satiate the cravings, no matter how strange. A happy parent made a happy baby.

Why couldn’t that be true? Why did their single chance go to waste? Julian couldn’t have known that anything was wrong until he heard the wailing from inside their modest home. Surely his life flashed before his eyes. How could it not? Minke screamed and cried like the world was ending.

“Minke?” Julian gasped, nearly slamming through the door to get to them. Memories of nightmares long abandoned were brought to the surface when he saw the blood drops on the floor. They’d made it to the wooden portion of the floor before collapsing, the blood only amassing into a gruesome puddle beneath Minke. Their hands raked the blood, as they trembled and tried to be calm.

“Minke!” His voice trembled as he fell to his knees before them, gloved fingers carefully reaching out for their legs. As hard as it was, he could be heartbroken when he was sure they were alright. “Has… Have they passed yet?”

They could only sob and shake their head.

“Minke… Mishka,” he pleaded, vainly hoping that the nickname would bring a relief of a smile to their lips. It didn’t. “Let me help, please.”

The pain was like nothing they’d ever felt. It was a tragedy that the pain wasn’t even comparable to birth, yet it was— and so much worse. Birth was a pain with a reward. This was blasphemy to the very idea. It was the expiration of hope. 

Teeth chattered and rattled as Minke did their best to work through their grief and rage. It was all just bad luck, but why did it have to happen when this was their only chance?They dreaded to see their feelings reflected in Julian’s eyes. He’d wanted this so much. He’d whispered so many plans in their ears. He’d spent his sleepless nights getting to know their baby. It wasn’t fair.

The relief didn’t last. Dark, confused, betrayed, heartbroken, mourning eyes met theirs, devastatingly identifiable image in the palms of his gloved hands. It hurt to look. They’d been doing so well. They were healthy. They were well developed. They had fingers and toes. His search for a towel to wrap them in was frantic, but he treated them just as he would a newborn, careful and kind, as if just comforting and providing warmth would undo everything.

Everything was a blur. Minke hardly realized they were cradled in his lap, tragedy in their arms, sitting in the middle of the kitchen and rocking. Julian was crying. His words didn’t make sense, but he didn’t seem to be speaking to them either. It was heartbreaking enough to lose a child, but it felt as if a piece of Minke died, realizing how deeply this must have hurt him. It would take months and years to undo this, for both of them. Minke would have to work their way into his head again and undo the knot of lies convincing him that he didn’t deserve happiness and that everything he loved was ruined. It would take months and years for Minke not to feel bitter and broken for not even doing this one thing right.

But it would pass just as the evening passed into morning and alertness passed into sleep and sobbing passed into silent comfort and days passed into weeks, into months. They tried not to talk about it. They both knew that if they so much as brought it up, they’d restart the cycle and they’d be spending their day at the docks, emptying their tears into the waters where they’d laid their baby to rest. Minke knew Julian spent sleepless nights thinking about it. They did too— about how by then, they would have given birth and had a crying, screaming baby in their arms— about how they would have looked or sounded, whether they had a son or daughter or whatever happy medium in between.   
Their fingers had been long. They would have been like Julian.

Minke and Julian did everything they could to dull the pain until they could move on. It’d been crying, it’d been wallowing, and unsurprisingly, it was also drinking at the Rowdy Raven and praying that the alcohol didn’t drive them to tears again.

One night, Minke hadn’t the heart to drink, but they went with Julian anyway, far more inclined to spend the sleepless night surrounded by raucous, merry folk than sit at home and stew. It was only once Julian was starting to get more rowdy than was fun did they cut him off and pull him out into the alley. 

Oh his eyes were dark and they were angry. It was the painful, inward anger that was so familiar it could almost be called “Julian” by name. Only once Minke’s hands were carding through his hair and they rose to their tiptoes to press their foreheads together did he calm down, anger fading into a pitiful whimper. 

Their moment was interrupted by the shuffling of feet on the cobblestone. Julian ripped his head back, ready to recklessly fend off whatever danger might have been posed by the noise, grief and drink having undone all the lessons he’d learn for himself. 

But the sound didn’t come from a thug or a shifty character. As if by miracle or sheer coincidence, shuffling up to their side was a young child, no more than four. They dragged along a blanket, never minding that it was being dragged through dirt and debris. Most strikingly, they had ratty red hair, like Julian and like Portia. Perhaps they were the single promise.

“When’s papa coming back?” they asked, sucking in a huge gob of snot and hardly looking up at them with their tear drenched face. “I don’t know where he is.”

Both Minke and Julian collapsed to their knees, guiding the child closer. Questions abounded, but one thing became clear: the last time their father was seen, he was leaving in a carriage. Who knew if he was coming back? The poor baby couldn’t remember enough for either of them to conclude if he’d just left or if he’d been arrested. Regardless, they couldn’t leave the child. They said they were alone. They could be dishonest, but there was no leaving them on the street. They’d make fliers. They’d ask around. They’d do anything.

And they did. No one knew where their father had gone. He hadn’t returned. No one lived at their house. No one knew the child’s name. If not for them saying it straight out, Minke would have hardly believed they had one.

Sasha was hesitant to settle in, constantly vigilant for their father’s return, but he didn’t. As much as Minke and Julian hoped to keep Sasha and give them all the love in the world, they did their best to remain aware that this wasn’t their child and they could be gone at a moment’s notice. Even after a year, they vainly worried, treading around subjects of family as if they were on thin ice.

Until one evening after dinner, as Sasha drew all over the pages of one of Julian’s mostly blank workbooks, when the deal sealing words were spoken. “Come look at my drawing, papa!”


End file.
